Kidnapping
by Secrets of the Fall
Summary: Kurt thought it only happened in horror movies; a serial killer is on the prowl in Ohio, is he a potential victim?
1. Phone Calls

_Last time I checked, Glee was not mine._

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><p><em>Hate is a disease. It is fear's messenger and it makes us do terrible things in a shadow of our better selves, of what we could be.<em>

_- Colin Farrell_

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><p>As Kurt walked back to his room, he could almost feel the positive atmosphere drifting away with every step.<p>

He dreaded having to face her; knowing that her usual jovial attitude would be replaced with concern once more.

"Kurt, that's the fifth time that happened in one hour!" she exclaimed when he came into view.

He sighed audibly; his breath escaping in one rush past his lips. "I know, Mercedes. I told you, they're just prank calls."

She gave him a look of dismay, "a prank call every twenty minutes? While that does happen, it's never happened quite this often before."

"I know, I know." Kurt joined her on the bed, and closed his eyes as he tried to forget the last phone call.

Some jerk breathed down the line for minutes at a time, while Kurt asked who it was. When he didn't get an answer, he would hang up, but the creep continued to call and almost moan on the other end.

"Kurt, I'm worried. I think you should tell your dad."

He shook his head, "no, that would just give the caller what they want."

"And what is it that they want?"

"They want the satisfaction of knowing that I'm scared and that I have to go and have someone fix my problems for me."

"Are you scared?" she asked, her voice low.

"No." Kurt leaned forward and grabbed the remote. "Now, what were we watching again?"

Mercedes gave him a long look before settling into the pillows beside him. Her eyes were filled with concern for his well-being, and she knew not telling Burt was a bad idea.

"Mercedes, I'm fine. Please, I didn't invite you over for the night just to have you worry about some stupid phone call." He was rapidly losing his patience, and his thumb jabbed at the channel button angrily. He wasn't even paying attention to the screen anymore, and his thoughts kept circling back to that phone call.

Two minutes later, his cell phone vibrated beside him, and he smiled when he saw Blaine's name flash across the screen.

"Who's that?" Mercedes asked.

"A person I'd like to get a call from," Kurt answered with a smile. "Hey," he said into the receiver."

"Kurt? Oh thank goodness, I was so worried!"

Kurt frowned. Blaine worried about him too much, but there was an edge to his voice that was unsettling.

"What do you mean Blaine? Are you okay?" He shook his head at the concerned glance Mercedes was giving him.

"I'm fine," Blaine breathed. "I just-" there was movement on his end of the phone. "I just need you to do something for me okay? It's going to sound silly, but I need you to do this."

"Okay, Blaine. What is it?" Kurt could feel his heart pound against his ribs, and he wasn't sure he liked where this call was going.

"Are you inside your house?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I need you to lock your doors and windows."

"They should be locked already."

"Okay, double check for me?"

"Sure." Kurt stood up and together with Mercedes, walked downstairs to check the doors and various windows throughout the house. His bare feet ghosted across the floor, and he motioned for Mercedes to help him with the rooms he skipped.

"Are you good?"

"I'm good."

"Okay." Blaine paused. "Is there anyone with you?"

Carol and my dad are out at a movie, Finn is at Puck's, but Mercedes is over with me."

"Alright, good. Kurt, I need you to call your dad and ask him to come home."

Kurt frowned. "Blaine, can you tell me what's going on?"

Blaine's breath came in short pants, and Kurt could picture him on the other end, running his hand through his hair as he thought of what to say.

"I was watching the news, and-Kurt there's-I'm just worried."

"Okay. Start off slow, what did you see?"

"There's-it looks like there's a serial killer in Ohio."

Kurt was quiet for a few moments, his mind racing as Blaine's words repeated in his head.

"Blaine, I don't understand."

"There's a serial killer targeting male high school students in Ohio who've recently transferred schools due to bullying."

The silence rang throughout the room. Even Mercedes, who only heard half the conversation, was silent in disbelief.

"Blaine."

"Please call your dad, Kurt."

"I-"

"Don't try and talk your way out of it. Give Mercedes the phone."

He didn't argue, he just passed his phone into her outstretched hand.

"Yeah, okay, I know." She nodded a few times in agreement, and gave Kurt a quick look.

He blinked in shock, his blue eyes staring straight ahead without actually taking anything in. He heard her say a few more things before the phone was back against his ear.

"Kurt?"

"I'm here Blaine."

"Kurt! Mercedes said you got some strange phone calls?"

"Yeah, it's nothing."

"It's not nothing, Kurt! I'm coming over there right now."

He snapped out of his trance. "No Blaine! If there is some serial killer on the prowl, I am not having you risk your life for me."

"Kurt, you are my boyfriend and I love you. I will not stand by when your life could be in danger."

Kurt bit his lip. Part of him wanted Blaine to come and see him, and the other part didn't want him to put himself at risk. There was another part that wasn't sure he was in danger at all, and that part tugged at his conscious, as if fighting for control.

Nonetheless, Kurt ran downstairs to call his dad, but the familiar ringing caught him off guard.

"Kurt?"

He didn't answer Blaine or Mercedes, as both had spoken at the same time. Instead, he stood still, feeling his blood run cold as the phone rang again. He gently laid his cell on the table and reached for the house phone. His fingers felt cold as they wrapped around the black device, and he slowly brought it to his ear.

Silence.

Then.

Breathing.

"Kurt?"

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><p><em>Cliffhanger!<em>

_I got this idea from watching a new episode of Criminal Minds!  
><em>


	2. Taken

_I don't own Glee._

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><p><em>To become a father is not difficult, but to be a father is.<em>

_- Unknown_

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><p>Silence.<p>

Then.

Breathing.

"Kurt?" Blaine waited, his heart thumping at the silence. He swore angrily and ran around his room; grabbing his coat, keys, and slipping on his shoes. He didn't even bother with his hair as he ran towards his car, and jumped in the driver's seat. The engine roared to life in the setting sun. He backed out of his driveway, struggling to fix the mirrors and get his seat belt on.

He was a mess.

"Let him be okay, let him be okay, please let him be okay." He swore again and urged the car forward, pushing sixty on the main road. He pressed send once more on his phone, but Kurt didn't pick up. The phone rang, once, twice, three times, while he waited with bated breath. The machine picked up, and he threw his phone on the passenger seat, watching it bounce against the cushion and fall to the floor.

He barely missed a red light but stopped short as another light flashed yellow. He bent down with shaking fingers to grasp his phone, his breath shuttering in his throat. He pressed three buttons slowly, 9-1-1, and waited for help.

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

He swallowed back tears. "I think-I think my boyfriend is-I think he's going to die."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I was watching the news, and I got scared because there's a serial killer in Ohio, and then he got strange phone calls, and now he's not answering my call…"

"Where is your boyfriend?"

"Lima, Ohio."

"Is this where he lives."

"Yes."

"I need the exact address."

Blaine spat out the address, his sight half blinded by tears.

"Sir, are you driving?"

"Yes."

"I need you to pull over, it will be safer."

"I'm on the highway!"

"When it is safe, pull over to the right side of the highway."

"Okay."

"Are you pulled over?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I'm going to need his phone number and name, and your information as well."

He answered the dispatcher's next questions, and then continued to race to Kurt's house. _This isn't happening, this isn't happening, oh, this isn't happening._

"Are you going to send police to his house?"

"Yes, I need you to stay on the line with me though."

"Okay."

His mind flashed with images of Kurt; bloody and lifeless on the floor, his arms laying across his abdomen, his blue eyes blank. _No! _He shook the image from his thoughts and focused on getting to his house before it was too late.

Rounding the bend, he heard sirens and a sob rose from his chest. _No, no, no, no, no, no. _He parked his car and ran over to where Burt stood.

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><p>Burt and Carole were just exiting the movie theater, when Burt heard his ring tone. He glanced at his phone and saw the number to the local police department. He frowned, and his heart skipped a beat as he pushed the talk button.<p>

"Hello."

"This is Sergeant Alexander, I need to speak with Burt Hummel."

"You're talking to him."

"Mr. Hummel, I received a phone call from an emergency dispatcher who said she got a call from a minor named Blaine Anderson regarding your son Kurt Hummel. He was concerned that your son was in danger. Are you with your son?"

"No, I-I'm with my wife Carole, we went to go see a movie, Kurt was at home with his friend-" Burt trailed off, and glanced at Carole, his eyes wide.

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><p><em>Blaine, I'm scared. <em>

_I know._

_Blaine, please don't leave me alone here, please. _

_I won't, I promise._

_Please, Blaine. Stay with me, please, don't leave me alone. _

_I won't, Kurt. _

_Blaine. I'm so scared. _

_I'm here, Kurt._

_It's so dark, why is it dark?_

_I don't know. Come here, Kurt. _

_Help me, please._

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><p>"Mr. Hummel!" Blaine ran over to where Kurt's dad stood.<p>

"Blaine?"

"Mr. Hummel, what happened?"

"He's gone."

Blaine's blood ran cold. "He's. Gone?"

Burt stumbled over his words, "I mean, he isn't here, I-I don't think-I don't."

"He was kidnapped?"

Burt nodded weakly. "Blaine, from what the FBI told me, this serial killer keeps these boys for a week."

Blaine shivered, his mind in overdrive as he struggled to remain coherent. _A week. He has a week. _"Who's over there?" he asked, pointing to the stretcher in the ambulance.

"Mercedes."

"Is she-?"

"No, thank goodness. He-the man struck her with a blunt object in his hurry to get to Kurt. The FBI were confused as to why he spared her, but she wasn't what he wanted, Kurt was."

Blaine nodded, "She was in the way." He bit his lip, as he made his way over to the ambulance. Mercedes was in a rough state; she had a concussion from the blow to her head, and she was incredibly guilt ridden for not being able to stop the intruder from taking Kurt.

As of now, Mercedes was the only person to have seen the attacker, but her injury prevented anyone from asking her questions, besides the fact that she was under age, and needed parental consent to be asked questions.

She was half asleep, and Blaine could already feel the damp tears running down his cheeks. He held her left hand in both of his, rage and guilt smoldering deep in his chest.

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><p>"My name is Burt Hummel. My son, Kurt Hummel has been taken." Burt stood in front of reporters, as the Ohio Amber Alert went out to the public. He looked down at the notes written by the FBI to say to the attacker, or 'unknown subject.' "He's sixteen, he loves to sing, dance, and, he's the most inspiring person I have ever met." He was beginning to fall apart, his voice cracking while tears clouded his vision. Carol rubbed his shoulder in circular motions while he talked, Finn was on her other side. "Please, if your out there- I want you to know that it's okay." Burt's heart twisted while he spoke, " thank you for taking care of my son, but I would like him to return home now."<p>

That was it, he couldn't talk any more. He lost his ability to form coherent sentences when he told a damn creep that taking his son was okay! This, he just couldn't understand. What was wrong with the world when taking a _child _was seen as okay by some people?

The reporters were badgering him; their questions rolling off their tongues in a precise, hungry manner.

He turned his back on them, only one thing on his mind: Kurt_. Hang in there kid, I will never give up on you._


	3. Falling Apart

**_Hello_**

**_Chapter 3 is finally here!_**

**_Glee is not mine :)_**

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><p><em>Do not anticipate trouble, or worry about what may never happen. Keep in the sunlight.<em>

_-Benjamin Franklin_

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><p>Blaine slammed his pen down on the desk in front of him. Homework was so pointless when Kurt was out there; missing. It was the first full day after his disappearance, and Blaine felt like he had been hit by a bus. He had hardly slept last night, he tossed and turned in his sheets while images of his and Kurt's last time together flashed through his mind. His sleep was chaotic, his dreams were fast, and slipped in and out of each other, he never fell into a deep sleep.<p>

Kurt made the eleven pm news as the breaking story. He couldn't even watch it. It crushed him to know that Kurt was a missing victim of a horrible crime. He didn't even want to know what happened to the other boys, the only thing he did know, was they didn't survive.

Reporters had flocked to his house early that morning, but his parents had threatened to sue them if they didn't leave immediately. His mom had let him stay home from school, but as he leaned back in his chair, he sighed, yes, homework was pointless at a time like this.

Kurt.

This pained him. This pain that was so deep, he never knew anything like it until now, and it flooded his senses so sharply, that he needed to stop and gasp for air at times. Now, was one of those times.

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><p>"<em>Blaine? Blaine, where are you?"<em>

"_I'm right here, Kurt."_

"_Oh, right."_

"_Kurt, don't look down there."_

"_I know, it scared me the first time."_

"_Kurt, listen to me. I will come and take you away from here."_

"_I don't even know where I am."_

"_I know."_

"_Why are you here?"_

"_So that you aren't alone."_

"_Blaine Anderson. Ever the gentleman."_

"_Look at you cracking jokes."_

"_Blaine, I'm scared."_

"_I know. I am so sorry."_

"_Stay with me?"_

"_You know I will."_

"_Blaine, I need to ask you a question."_

"_Ask away."_

"_I need to know that you'll answer honestly."_

"_I will."_

"_Promise me, Blaine."_

"_I promise."_

"_What do you promise, Blaine?"_

"_I promise to answer your question honestly."_

"_Okay. Do you think…?"_

"_Do I think what?"_

"_Do you think I'm going to die?"_

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><p>Burt was feeling immense guilt that Kurt was taken from home, a safe place, that in a split second, was not as safe as one thought.<p>

He began to spend more and more time alone, leaving Carole and Finn guilty, hurt, and unsure how to act. They became afraid of moving around in the house, saying the wrong thing, or even drinking all the milk.

This was due to the loud outburst he had given them the morning after Kurt's disappearance.

"How are you feeling?" Carole asked over breakfast.

"I need to find him."

"I'm sure the police are searching diligently for him."

"No, that's not good enough. I need to find him." Burt held back a sob that was crushing his chest.

"Burt, I need you to calm down, for your heart."

"I don't need to calm down! And I do not care about my heart when MY son is out there!" he screamed.

Carole sat in a stunned silence. Burt never yelled at her like that. Now that she thought of it, he never yelled, period.

This was serious.

"I know how worried you are about Kurt, but you need to calm down and think about staying strong-both emotionally and physically-for him. I know this is hard, I'm worried too, but we need to help each other and be there for one another."

Burt grunted. He felt like a child. He wished he could throw a tantrum like one and get away with it.

He lay awake last night thinking about Kurt; where he was, what was happening to him, if he was safe, if he had food or water, if he was too cold or too hot, if he…"

It was too much.

He looked back at Carole. He loved her, he really did, but this was his _son. _If something happened to Kurt, it would be his fault, and he would never be able to see the light in the world again. The guilt would consume him, it would become him.

To put it simply: there would be no hope.

"I can't do this."

Carole came around behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Yes you can. We'll do it together. You and me. We will get through this and bring Kurt home. Everything will be okay."

He sank into her touch. "I can't lose him."

"You won't."

"He will be okay. He's a strong boy and he will do just fine."

Burt turned in her embrace. "Do you really believe that?"

She smiled. "I do. He will find a way to cope and to stay alive."

"I feel horrible, like I've failed him."

She kissed his cheek. "I know, but that's not true. You have not failed him. As long as you stay strong, you will not fail him. He needs you to stay strong, for him. He gains strength from you, Burt. That will never change. No matter where he is, and when he comes home, we'll be here for him through the ups and downs. We will be here to help him cope with what has happened to him. We will not fail him."

"You know," Burt chuckled dryly. "He doesn't believe in God, but I wonder if he has something there with him."

"I'm sure of it. Even if it isn't something spiritual, it's giving him the strength he needs to survive."

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><p>"I promise," Kurt said. "I won't tell anyone. Just please, let me go."<p>

The man ignored him.

"Please."

"Shut up. You talk, when I say you talk."

Kurt grew silent. He was nervous, scared, anxious, and extremely confused. He had no idea where he was, and his back was throbbing him. He was pretty sure it was bruised from where it had been hit.

He knew from his childhood lessons his dad had taught him about kidnapping, to look around and search for clues that would help him figure out where he was, what time of day it was, how long he had been there, and who his kidnapper was.

The sun streamed in through the curtains, so he knew it was daytime, but he wasn't sure if it was early in the morning, or late in the afternoon. He also had no clue where he was but the house itself was small. The room he was currently in looked like a bedroom complete with a bed, dresser, closet on the far wall and shelves built into the wall below the window. He wasn't sure how long he had been there, the last thing he remembered was-

No.

He didn't want to think of that. Oh god, Mercedes! Was she okay? Was she hurt? Did she-die?

He pushed those thoughts from his mind and turned to see the man. He looked young and Kurt noticed he didn't have a face mask on. Kurt could clearly see his face. Did that mean-? Usually that meant-. Kurt was almost certain of it now; if he could see the man's face-and he could-that meant the man didn't care because he was surely going to kill him.

Kurt didn't want to die. He could feel his throat tightening; lacing with tears. He squeezed his eyes shut but it didn't stop the flood. Tears swam down his cheeks and he couldn't stop them. He felt more exposed than ever. His breath came out in pants. He was going to die. Why? What did he ever do wrong? He didn't even know this person? Right?

"Stop crying."

Kurt tried. He swallowed down his tears but he felt like he was choking so he stopped. The man was getting annoyed, he could see that. But he couldn't stop. Why couldn't he stop? The man came closer, his hand raised as he glared at him. _Stop_! Kurt screamed. He didn't want to die. The man was in front of him now, raised fist in the air. _No_! He didn't want to die, _this isn't fair_! Then, he felt it.

_No! _Then, black.


	4. Down to Business

**_Hello, _**

**_here is chapter four. This chapter was pretty difficult for me to write. Nevertheless, here it is!_**

**_Disclaimer  
><em>**

* * *

><p><em>Action and reaction, ebb and flow, trial and error, change - this is the rhythm of living. Out of our over-confidence, fear; out of our fear, clearer vision, fresh hope. And out of hope, progress. <em>  
><em> Bruce Barton<em>

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><p>Blaine waited with bated breath as Burt talked on the phone with a Detective. He could hear Burt's voice rising twenty octaves and he knew it wasn't good. "You can't be serious!" Blaine wanted to stick his head around the corner but Carole shook her head and motioned for him to sit at the kitchen table. "No! I am not happy. You have no leads and I'm sick of waiting around. Kurt is not going to waltz through my door of his own account and you know that! Yes, we will be in touch."<p>

The silence rang through the house. It wasn't normal. This wasn't normal. After a few minutes, Burt came into the kitchen and went to the stove to put their lunch on plates. He didn't talk and he didn't make eye contact with Carole or Blaine.

Carole waited one more minute before getting up from the table and going to stand by Burt. He knew she was there but he spoke with his back to her anyway. "It's been three days, and they have no leads." His voice shook and he hated that he couldn't look at his wife. It was all wrong. He wasn't supposed to feel like a stranger to her. He wasn't supposed to get up from bed in the middle of the night because he couldn't sleep next to her soundly knowing that Kurt wasn't in his room down the hall. But as he laid on the couch, he realized that he couldn't sleep at all.

Carole put her hand on his shoulder, relaxing when he didn't shake her away. "Who did you speak with?" she asked softly.

"Some Detective named Sam Taylor." He finished shoveling the chicken fingers onto three plates-Finn was taking a walk-and took a seat across from Blaine.

Blaine looked at the food in front of him, his meager appetite now vanishing as he thought about what Burt said. Kurt was out there and here he was, sitting at his kitchen table for God-sakes eating a plate of chicken fingers!

He couldn't do this anymore.

He pushed back from the table and was able to reach the door before Burt called him back to the table. He thought about his options: he could keep going and walk like Finn, or he could sit back down and talk with Burt.

He made his way back to the table and sat down roughly, avoiding the eyes on him.

Burt took a deep breath. "Tell me what you're thinking, kid."

Blaine glanced up from under his lashes. He could tell Burt was struggling to keep calm and be strong for him. Why? Was it because Burt knew how much he cared for Kurt? It must be because although Burt's gaze was unwavering and he was sitting with his hands crossed on the table in front of him patiently, Blaine could see the tears welling up in his eyes.

Blaine decided to spill, after all, if Burt didn't want him to tell the truth, he wouldn't be sitting across from him now. "I'm angry! I'm pissed off that Kurt is with some psycho and the FBI agents are probably on their lunch break right now!"

Carole reached across the table and grabbed his hand. He could feel her thumb running circles across his palm and he was grateful for the contact.

Burt gave him a empathetic look and nodded. "I know."

Blaine bit his lip. "So what do I do?"

Burt leaned forward in his chair and gave Blaine a serious look. "Keep talking about how you feel. It's important that you don't keep this stuff inside, I'm learning to talk more too, and it does take time and patience. Secondly, don't think about what the agents are doing, that will only screw with your head and make it harder for you. We're here for you, and we all understand what you feel."

Blaine could taste his grief and anger; it was eating him up inside. He swallowed down his tears and asked, "Why did you invite me for lunch?"

Burt shared a knowing look with Carole who replied, "We wanted to know where you are with all of this and help you in anyway we can."

"Thank you," he whispered.

* * *

><p>"Get up!"<p>

Kurt jumped at the gruff voice. He had fallen asleep. What? How had he fallen asleep? This whole kidnapping thing must be getting to him. He slid off the bed, wincing as he did, and followed the sound of the voice out into the hallway.

"Let's go, it's time for lunch."

Kurt stopped dead in his tracks. The man had on the biggest smile on his face as he waited for Kurt at the bottom of the stairs. What was going on? Kurt half expected the man to pull a knife from his back pocket and charge at him. But he didn't. He just stood there waiting for Kurt to walk down the stairs.

"What do you mean?" Kurt could feel his heart pounding and he hoped his rib cage could hold it in place. He wanted Blaine. He wanted to be back at home where he could put the most amazing outfits together and read vogue. But he had to face facts, it didn't seem like he would be doing those things again.

Tentatively, he stepped down the stairs until he was standing beside the man. He motioned for him to go down a small hallway and Kurt tried not to shy away as the man put his hand on the small of his back.

Kurt was being led into a kitchen. To his surprise, it was warm and bright with butter-cup walls and a deep burgundy trim. He was scared by how normal this house was turning out to be.

"Come, let's get some food in you." Kurt frowned but his heart began to pound again as he saw food on the small table. The man wasn't going to poison him was he? Oh, God! He was going to be poisoned to death!

He was half-pulled half-pushed to the empty seat in front of his lunch. It didn't smell like poison and for some reason, that scared him even more. The man handed him a fork and still smiling, pulled up a seat next to him.

"I don't-I'm not hungry."

"Nonsense, you need to eat." The man continued to smile, as if Kurt was a small child that needed careful guiding, and he pushed the plate towards him.

Kurt swallowed down the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him and when he went to take the fork from the man, he touched his skin and cried out.

"I can't do this," he sobbed. "Please, don't make me! I won't tell, I promise!" He was sobbing so loudly and he wished that the man would stop with this slow torture. Just stop and kill him already. He didn't want to do this anymore.

_Blaine! Please help me!_

_I'm here._

The man broke through his fantasies and whispered in his ear, "You will eat your lunch. Now." Kurt's sobs ended just as quickly as they began because there was something in the man's voice that frightened him. His voice was threateningly-patient and he picked up the fork with shaking fingers and struggled to pick up his food. The fork dropped, clattered to the floor and Kurt froze. The man sighed and picked up the fork, brought it to the sink and dropped it in with a clang.

He walked back slowly and sat down without speaking. Was he going to hit him again? "That was your only fork." He said with an edge of disappointment in his voice. "Now, you have to eat with your hands."

Kurt looked at him pleadingly but the man nodded and gave him a look that said it could be much worse.

Kurt sobbed again as he picked up a strand of pasta and brought it to his mouth. He could taste his own salty tears. The man nodded, "Good boy!" and clapped. Kurt cried again as he continued to eat.

"Do you want some cheese?"

Kurt shook his head and tried to see through his tears. This was humiliating. The man smiled. "I think you want some cheese."

Kurt shook his head again. "No, please, no cheese."

The man laughed. The sound reverberated across the room and Kurt flinched. "What? Are you on a diet? You'll have some cheese." He stood up and walked to the fridge, humming to himself as he pushed aside various condiments in search of the cheese.

Kurt struggled to breathe and swallowed another mouthful of pasta. He wanted to jump up and leave. The door was right there! Why was this happening?

"Well, it looks like there will be no cheese. I swore I put it on the door." He sat back down beside Kurt and smiled. Kurt was so humiliated. His fingers were covered in pasta, sauce, and tears. He wanted to throw up. It was all he could do to keep eating.

When he finished his plate the man stood up and clapped his hands. Maybe he would kill him now? Kurt hoped it would be quick. He felt disgusting. He closed his eyes and cried some more. How could he have that many tears? How could he still cry?

"Are you full now?"

Kurt didn't speak. He hung his head as sobs wracked his bruised body.

"Well, since you aren't speaking to me, I'll assume you are. We have work to do."

Why were his eyes shining like that? He doesn't really have a knife does he? _Blaine_.

"I'm going to make you into a man."


	5. Leads

_**Hello,**_

_**Chapter 5 is here!**_

_**Insert disclaimer**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>There is no hope unmingled with fear, and no fear unmingled with hope. <strong>_

_**~Baruch Spinoza  
><strong>_

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><p>The FBI agents moved swiftly through the first floor of the house. Their shouts of "clear" rang out as they checked each room they came across. Time was running out. One older agent came to a closed door at the end of the corridor. He nodded to the other agents behind him before opening the door with a loud, "FBI!"<p>

The middle aged man sat in a chair facing the far wall as he waited for the agents. He didn't look at them as they swarmed around him, nor did he give any sense that he was anxious.

"Do not move! Put your hands above your head and interlock your fingers, now!" the agent who opened the door shouted as he waited for the suspect to follow his command.

The man did as he was told. A young male agent appeared confused at the suspect's calm behavior and questioned a fellow female agent, "Is he our guy?" he watched as the man was hand-cuffed and escorted out of the room, a look of relief coloring his features.

She shook her head, "No, but he knows where our guy is."

* * *

><p>Burt heard the phone ring from upstairs and dropped everything that he was doing to answer it before the machine picked up.<p>

Breathless, he answered it on the last ring, "Hello?"

"Hello, Mr. Hummel. We have a lead."

Burt forgot how to breathe. They had a lead after too many days of bated breathes and racing hearts.

"What kind of lead?" he asked anxiously as he leaned against the door-frame for support while the detective spoke.

"We have the man's father and we're holding him for questioning at the police department."

Burt let out a sigh of relief, "Is it okay if I come down?"

"Yes, sir."

_This is it,_ Burt thought as he hung up. He was one step closer to finding Kurt.

* * *

><p>Blaine lay on his bed and stared at the photo of him and Kurt on his phone. His finger outlined Kurt's face over and over again.<p>

He wondered if he should begin thinking about Kurt in the past tense because as each day passed, it got harder and harder to think about him being alive.

Just as he was thinking about turning over onto his side and going to sleep, his phone vibrated with an incoming call from Mercedes. As he pressed the talk button, he reminded himself to ask how Kurt's best friend got his number in the first place.

"Hello?"

"Blaine? Hi, this is Mercedes. I needed to call you about a rumor that's been circulating around McKinley before you heard from anywhere else."

"Okay."

Blaine, there's a rumor that the man who has Kurt works as a Janitor for McKinley. It would explain why this particular Janitor has been out all week."

Blaine frowned. "Mercedes, that's kind of far-fetched."

"Blaine, it's just a rumor. However, it would explain the patience this guy is supposed to have. Apparently, he watches these kids for months before he kidnaps them and does…whatever he does with them," she finished.

"Who started the rumor?"

"We don't know. Blaine, think about it. These aren't random kidnappings. This guy chooses these kids for a reason, and he keeps on kidnapping particular kids because whatever he's trying to do isn't working."

"So the police need to figure out why he's kidnapping these kids and then they can begin looking for him."

"Yeah. They don't have much time though."

Blaine agreed. "That's what worries me."

* * *

><p>Finn, could you get those Waffles out of there?" Carole asked as she wheeled the shopping cart around the frozen section of the supermarket.<p>

"Which ones?"

"The store brand 10-pack ones," Carole replied pointing.

"Mom, do you think we should check on Burt?" Finn asked as Carole checked Waffles off her list."

Carole shook her head and pushed the cart down the aisle. "No, let's give him some space right now. He's already on edge and now he has his hopes up because they have someone downtown. It's better if we just go home and stay calm."

"Okay."

After ten minutes at the checkout, they emerged from the store only to be bombarded by a fierce-looking reporter throwing several questions at Carole. "How do you feel about Kurt being kidnapped? Is it putting a strain on your marriage? How about Finn? What does he think about all of this?"

Carole was shocked. This was not how she planned to spend her morning at the supermarket. She was lost for words and thoughts. Finn watched as another reporter came up to them, followed by a camera man, his shoes pounding against the pavement as he worked to get the best angle.

Carole felt Finn tug on her arm and move in the opposite direction towards the car. She opened her mouth and let out, "No comment," which felt strange on her tongue. She wheeled the cart as fast as it would go across the parking lot, and only when they had turned out onto the main road did she realize she was crying.

Finn had never seen his mom fall apart like this, and he didn't know how to comfort her. As she sobbed against the steering wheel at a red light, he patted her back in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

A moment later, she stepped on the gas again and breathed heavily as she drove home. "I'm okay, Finn. They just surprised me."

Finn gave his mother a long look. "Mom, what they did was wrong, and you didn't deserve it."

She sighed as she pulled into the driveway. "I just want Kurt home safely, and for this to all be over."

* * *

><p>Kurt heard the man climb the stairs from his bedroom. His entire body hurt from his lesson yesterday, and he wasn't sure he would be able to take another one if he upset the man again. He felt the bed dip and his body tense up as the man hovered over him.<p>

"I'm going to the store to pick up a few things. Do you want anything?"

Kurt didn't answer. He continued to stare at the wall with his back facing his kidnapper.

"I said Do. You. Want. Anything?"

"No," Kurt muttered under his breath. He couldn't understand how whatever-his-name-was could be so concerned about his health one minute, and so inhumane the next minute. It was confusing and caused Kurt to fear for his safety every second that he wasn't alone.

"Okay. That's better. You need to answer when I speak to you or there will be repercussions. Now, I will only be gone for forty minutes. The doors and windows are all locked and boarded, the phone doesn't work, and there isn't anywhere for you to go. Behave yourself," he added as an afterthought.

Kurt waited until he heard the door shut to get up as slowly as possible and search for his phone. He knew he had it on him but he wasn't sure which pant's pocket it was in. He was ordered to change his clothes every day, which was something else he didn't understand, but he always kept his phone on him. Except for the last two days when his body hurt too much to change his clothes. The man would look at him in disgust before leaving the room or ordering him to do something, like eat.

He found it five minutes later in the hamper beside the washing machine, and flipped it open with shaking fingers. He knew what he had to do, but he was still frightened nevertheless. His phone only had a little while to go until it died, so he needed to act fast. He pressed 9-1-1, gave one last glance around him, and let out one more shaky breath before pressing send and waiting for the operator.


	6. Truth

**_Hello,_**

**_Here is chapter six! There will most likely be one more chapter after this one, due to the fact that this chapter ties up a lot of loose ends._**

**_Insert disclaimer here_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Today the world changes so quickly that in growing up we take leave not just of youth but of the world we were young in. <em>******

**_-Peter Medawar_**

* * *

><p>The older man sat patiently inside the interview room at the police department. He was willing to tell the police and FBI everything, as long as they promised not to hurt his son. His son wasn't a bad person. His choices over the past few years were the things that were bad, and those could always be changed…people could change. These were the things the kidnapper's father thought to himself as he waited.<p>

A couple minutes later, an Agent walked silently into the room. He had a file with him that he laid out on the table as he took a seat across from the man. "My name is Agent Davidson. It is to my knowledge that you will cooperate," he said.

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

><p>Kurt heard the ringing on the other line. His heart pounded in his chest, and the entire room felt way too hot.<p>

"9-1-1. What is you're emergency?"

Kurt heaved a sigh of relief. He felt his chest expand with happiness and his pulse slow.

"My name is Kurt Hummel. I've been kidnapped," he said in a hushed whisper.

"Okay, Kurt. It's good you've been able to call. The police and your family have been looking for you all week. Is your kidnapper there?"

"No," Kurt said. "He left to go pick some stuff up at the store, he'll be back in-" he ran through the house until he spotted the time- "a little under a half hour," he finished.

"Okay. That's really good that you could give me that information. I know exactly where you are, and I'm sending everyone your way. Don't hang up the phone."

Kurt leaned against the wall. "I won't," he breathed. He was going home.

* * *

><p>Agent Davidson looked through his file and back up at the man in front of him. "Your son, Andrew Brooke works as a Janitor for William McKinley High School, however, he has not been seen at the school since last Friday. That was almost a week ago. Kurt Hummel was last seen at his house with his friend, Mercedes last weekend." He paused, letting the information sink in before continuing, "The school became worried when both he and Kurt Hummel went missing without any sign regarding their whereabouts. He became a viable suspect, and even more so when a picture of Kurt being thrown against his locker was found in the Janitor's closet."<p>

The Agent heard a sharp intake of breath from the older man and knew that Mr. Brooke had no idea what his son was doing. He sat there, the color slowly draining from his face as he thought about where his son was now. It was all his fault.

"It's all my fault," the older man said as he buried his face in his hands.

* * *

><p>"How are you?" Blaine asked Mercedes. The hospital sheets crinkled as she changed her position on the bed with a groan.<p>

"I'll be a lot better once my boy is safe," she answered.

"How did you know about that rumor?"

"Rachel," Mercedes responded simply, as if that was all Blaine needed to hear.

"Do you think he's still alive?" Blaine asked. He dreaded asking that question, but he needed someone else to tell him that everything was going to be okay. What he wasn't sure, was if he wanted someone to tell him that everything was going to be okay even if it wasn't.

Mercedes sighed and looked up at the ceiling. The faint designs swirled across the pristine room, creating a world that she would give anything to be a part of at the moment. "Kurt's a fighter. He wouldn't give up…even if it got hard to stay alive," she answered, nodding her head as if to convince herself even more than Blaine.

Blaine nodded and swallowed thickly. He felt as if he was slowly breaking and everyday Kurt was still missing, a piece of his soul was destroyed.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean this is you're fault?" the Agent asked, as he looked at him intently.<p>

The man licked his lips and sat back against the chair. "Andrew was bullied for most of his childhood. Now, back in the day, we all thought that bullying was just a natural part of growing up, and kids needed to take it with a grain of salt. I know differently now." He looked at the Agent with guilt in his eyes. "Last year, I went to see him…and when I got there he was very anxious and practically threw me to the curb. Before I was out the door though, I saw this boy. He couldn't have been any older than fifteen, with wide eyes and shaking hands. I knew he was gay, he looked gay. What do you call that?"

"Flamboyant," Davidson answered.

"Yes, that's it. Anyways, I asked about the kid. Andrew said he was watching him for a friend but the kid looked so scared, and before I got a chance to question him more about it, I was standing on the side of the road. I should have pressed harder."

Davidson flipped through his file, thumbing the pages until he came to a worn out looking case. "One year ago, a boy named Matthew Fields, fifteen, was abducted and killed one week later from his home in Columbus, Ohio. One single gun-shot wound to the head. This is the boy who died because you didn't 'press' harder. Now, I am not implying anything here, but you will have to live with this on your conscious for the rest of your life."

"I know."

"When did your son move?"

"About six months ago."

"Where does he live now?"

"Wilshire, Ohio."

* * *

><p>Kurt counted the seconds until he would hear sirens. Would he hear sirens? Either way, there wasn't much time left. He eased himself into a chair and stared at the wooden table to pass the time. He didn't want to go looking around the house. He felt disgusting here, and if he ever made it out alive, he didn't want any reminders of where he spent a week of his life.<p>

About fifteen minutes later, he saw flashing lights and knew the police were here. His heart began pounding again, and he clutched his phone like it was his life-line.

* * *

><p>Andrew Brooke was driving home at a leisurely pace. He had bought more groceries. As he whistled quietly to himself, he wondered if Kurt was behaving himself. All he wanted was to teach Kurt to deal with the bullies, and become a better man because of his experiences. He was running out of time.<p>

* * *

><p>"I have one more question," the Agent said as he folded his hands on the table in front of him."<p>

"Sure. However I can help."

"Is your son gay?" he asked seriously.

The man looked taken-aback for a moment. He quickly got himself together to offer a single word in response, "Yes."

* * *

><p>As Andrew pulled onto his block, he felt his heart stop. The road was closed down. The road is never closed down. What was going on? He didn't see any police cruisers, but a few years of doing this line of work caused you get to know the ins and outs of police work. He slowly put the car in reverse, and began to go back the way he came.<p> 


	7. Out of the Woods

_**Hello,**_

_**I've finally found time to write Chapter 7. This is the last chapter, but I am doing an epilogue.**_

_**As as warning, there is a character death in this chapter. **_

_**Glee is not mine.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>There is no lasting hope in violence, only temporary relief from hopelessness<strong>_

_**-Kingman Brewster, Jr.**_

* * *

><p>When Blaine got the call from Burt that the police had found out where Kurt was, he tried to drive right out to the house, much to the dismay of his mother. "Mom!" he said, his voice harsh as he glared at her. "Kurt has been found. He's alive and I need to see him."<p>

"And you will," she explained. "But you need to let the police do their job. They know what they're doing."

Blaine stared at her, waiting for her to cave and let him drive down to where Kurt was being held. She didn't. Dejected, Blaine retreated to his room where he sat on the edge of the bed and pushed the tears back. He needed to see Kurt. It physically hurt him to stay put and do absolutely nothing.

Five minutes later, he knew what he had to do. There wasn't any choice. He was going to see Kurt.

* * *

><p>Kurt could see the police shutting the road down. Good! They were here now. He wasn't sure how these things worked, but since his kidnapper was gone, he could just walk right on out of here…right?<p>

His fingers drummed on the table, creating a musical rhythm that traveled throughout the kitchen as he waited anxiously to go home.

He wondered for a moment, how Blaine was and if he heard the news yet. He could imagine the older boy's face if he had heard, all smiles as relief flooded his veins.

* * *

><p>Andrew continued to back his car down the street. His heart pounded frantically in his chest, his hands slipped from the steering wheel, and he almost hit some small kid running like his life depended on it.<p>

Turns out, the kid wasn't as small as he thought, and the dark-haired boy tripped over his own feet but caught himself on the back of the car.

Andrew put the car in park and shut off the engine. He turned to face the kid and he knew that he was Kurt's boyfriend.

* * *

><p>Blaine stared at the man in front of him. He could see the police and FBI halfway up the street, but they couldn't see him, and as the man advanced on him, he got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He tried to shout, but his mouth wouldn't open properly and the words stuck to the back of his throat.<p>

The man smiled at him. Smiled!

Blaine felt like he was in one of those dreams where you were trying to run away from something dangerous, but your feet were like dead weights that wouldn't move. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and his heart pounded violently against his ribs.

The man stopped an arms length away from him, took a knife from inside his jacket pocket and lunged towards him.

Blaine ran. He forced his legs forward towards the flashing lights and uniforms. But at the last minute, his path was obstructed. The man tripped him mid-step but caught him in his arms before he could fall. Now, this man held Blaine tightly with a knife at his throat, and he could feel the tip of the knife pressing against his skin.

* * *

><p>In the kitchen, Kurt knew something was wrong. He could feel it tingle in his fingers and toes.<p>

* * *

><p>An FBI agent, presumably the leader of the team, was the first to notice Andrew as he strolled towards them with Blaine like a shield in front of him. He immediately signaled to the other FBI agents and all work halted.<p>

"Andrew, we can talk about this."

"I don't think so," Andrew said smirking.

"Andrew," the agent said again, "It doesn't have to be this way. You know that."

"I'll make a trade with you. Kurt for this boy, here," Andrew bargained, glancing swiftly down at Blaine who was visibly shaking.

The agent shook his head. "This isn't a trade-in. Let the boy go."

* * *

><p>Kurt moved to the front window in quick, steady strides. He leaned on the sill and stretched to see outside but he couldn't see past the tree obstructing his view. He knew something was going on because most of the police were focused on something just beyond his sight and it created an unsettling feeling inside of him.<p>

He moved two feet to the right and…there! He could see! As his eyes trained on a spot to the far left, his breath caught in his throat and his hand flew up to his mouth. His kidnapper was holding Blaine at knifepoint. A million emotions coursed through him: anger, shock, pain, but mostly guilt because Blaine wouldn't be out there if it wasn't for him. Kurt stumbled back until his back bumped against the wall and he slid down, sobbing for everything that had happened over the past couple of days. This was happening, this was real, and he couldn't take it anymore.

* * *

><p>"Andrew," the agent warned. "I know what you're thinking and it doesn't have to be this way. It's not too late."<p>

Andrew closed his eyes against the scene in front of him before he shoved Blaine out of the way and with dark eyes, leapt towards the agent with the knife in his grasp.

* * *

><p>Kurt jumped a foot in the air when the gunshot rang out. He immediately sobbed harder and sprang to action, running to the door and yanking it open. The only thing on his mind was making sure that Blaine was safe. If Blaine was shot…<p>

* * *

><p>Blaine could taste dirt on his tongue and smell blood in the air. He gagged as he lay on the ground and forced his eyes to shut out the body that lay a few feet away.<p>

"Blaine!"

The scream came out from the house and Blaine knew of only one person with a set of lungs like that. His heart thumped unsteadily as he thought of Kurt and the realization that he was safe now.

There was a lot of movement suddenly; people helping him up and taking him and Kurt over to an ambulance, other people already forming a crime scene and collecting evidence.

All he could focus on was Kurt.

Kurt.

He was safe now.

That was all that mattered.


	8. Epilogue

**_Hello,_**

**_Here is the epilogue. Thanks to everyone who read this story, I know I enjoyed writing it. _**

**_I do not own Glee._**

* * *

><p><em><strong>"The best thing about the future is that it only comes one day at a time."<strong>_

_**-Abraham Lincoln**_

* * *

><p>"Kurt!" Carole called from the top of the stairs. "Blaine's here!"<p>

"Thanks!" Kurt yelled back. He just finished gathering his things before flying down the stairs to meet Blaine at the door.

A month had passed since Kurt had been home but that didn't stop his family, friends or boyfriend from relishing in his presence every day. As of right now, Blaine had stared at Kurt for a moment before taking him in his arms and holding him tightly while Carole pretended to straighten a few plants by the door.

"How are you?" Blaine whispered, his lips gently brushing Kurt's neck.

Kurt shivered slightly. "Good today."

And it was the truth. Today was one of the better days. Today was one of the days Kurt woke up, free from nightmares and shadows that made it their mission to wrap themselves around him like a snake.

Today, the dark circles under Kurt's eyes were seemingly vacant from his alabaster skin.

Blaine noticed. He loosened his hold on Kurt to glance down at him."You look good," he said smiling, and his smile only grew wider when a faint blush ghosted across Kurt's cheeks.

"Ah, Blaine. Good to see you," Burt announced as he walked towards the small party at the door. He gave his son a long look, no doubt checking his behavior and appearance like Blaine did just moments before.

"Thank you, it's good to see you, too," Blaine answered politely.

Kurt shook his head. Blaine and his formalities.

"So what are you two going to do today?" Burt continued.

Blaine looked at Kurt, who shrugged and said, "Maybe just a walk down the block."

"Sounds good to me," Blaine agreed softly, brushing a stray lock of hair away from Kurt's eyes.

Watching Kurt and Blaine interact like that showed Burt just how close the boys were. They looked at each other like they were long lost lovers just finding one another again, regardless of the past month's events. There was something different about them, and Burt could see that they were forever. They were so at ease and careful with each other; it amazed him.

Kurt fit his hand easily inside Blaine's as they made their way down the driveway. To Kurt, the neighborhood still looked foreign compared to the world he had known before he was kidnapped. He was just beginning to reacquaint himself with his surroundings and understand that everything around him was undeniably _real. _

Sometimes he had to stop what he was doing just to take it all in.

"I love you," Blaine said suddenly as he squeezed Kurt's hand.

Kurt felt his heart surge at those words, right down to his fingertips. "And I love you," he replied simply.

They stared at each other for a few seconds as they walked. They felt...stronger somehow, which was only multiplied by the force of their words. A week filled with uncertainty felt like an eternity, and they felt themselves needing the other like they needed air to breathe.

Kurt realized in that moment that nothing was certain; a fact that both terrified and strengthened him. He focused on the feeling of Blaine's hand in his and the way they walked in sync.

Nothing was certain, except the familiarity of right now.

Kurt would take that.

After all, who knew what tomorrow would bring?

But as Blaine turned to kiss him, Kurt could tell that everything would be alright.


End file.
